


Rewind

by Saltikitti



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU where Civil War doesn't exist, Angst, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm really sorry but Clint's kind of an ass in this, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny!Steve, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Stucky - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Time Travel, it's not for no reason though, lots of sad stuff, stucky fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltikitti/pseuds/Saltikitti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky looks up at him, his eyes brimming with tears, "They're in my head, Steve."<br/>"Do you know them?" He raises an eyebrow.<br/>Bucky nods his head, "I used too."<br/>"'Used too?'"<br/>He looks back down at his knees, "I killed 'em."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! As with most of my works, the updates for this will be slow. Sorry. Also, in later chapters this might (if I don't make any plot changes) contain a few scenes that might be triggering for some people but don't worry, I'll have shortened, less-detailed, summary of what happens in the notes so you can still understand the plot if you would like to skip those scenes. There's nothing else to add here so enjoy and feel free to add feedback!

Bucky wakes up in a panic, his hair sticking to his forehead and his sleepwear chafing from sweat. His eyes dart around the room, looking for something to tell him this isn’t real, that it’s all one big hallucination. Did he really escape? It seems too good to be true yet there he is; alone in his room at Stark Tower on a soft mattress; chain free, bar free, and with a sigh of relief he realizes people free too.  
He grabs the glass of water off the bed side table and downs it. It goes down the wrong way at first, but he keeps going. His breathing is still heavy, the water doesn't fix anything besides his dry mouth, and he feels a bit light headed.  
"It's okay. You're okay." He says to himself, imaging the words coming out of his friend's mouth like it's done so often over the last few weeks.  
He wants to believe those words with every fiber of his being but it seems like whenever he gets close to believing the reasons why he isn't pull him back.  
He runs his hands over his face, leaving them there for a moment as he tries to regain his composure.  
Through the cream colored wall, he hears someone get a notification on their phone, something that he still can’t quite understand despite Tony explaining it to him multiple times along with various diagrams of the inner-workings.  
He doesn't really understand why the phones with the weird, touchable screens are needed; they just do the same thing that radio does.  
There's a soft sound of sheets ruffling followed by the thuds of uneven footsteps affected by post-sleep haze.  
Bucky glances at the window, the sun filters through the blinds casting stripes of light over his white sheets and pale legs.  
“…Jarvis?” He asks warily, still not sure how the whole AI thing works yet. He won't tell Tony about that though. He's had enough diagrams.  
“Yes, Mr. Barnes?” The AI responds.  
Success. He gives himself a mental pat on the back. “What time is it?” He’s a bit more confident when he asks this time. It's not like the AI would call him out of he made any mistakes with the commands, or at least he hopes that it won't.  
“It is currently 7:54 AM." A pause. “I’ve already alerted the tower’s inhabitants that you have waken up. Will you be needing assistance this morning?”  
“No,” He says as he starts to get up from the bed, “I’ll be fine.”  
"I see. If you do end up needing it just ask and I'll send someone."  
The carpet feels foreign under his feet. He's been here for a week and a half and yet he still expects it to be the familiar grey concrete that he's grown used to over to past 80 years.  
His lightheadedness is better compared to when he first woke up, but he still stumbles slightly.  
He grabs a pair of trousers along with a grey t-shirt from the closet, being ever so careful not to mess up the bandages and gauze covering his right side.  
Steve said he was shot; that he had walked into the lobby covered in blood and then collapsed.  
Bucky doesn't doubt it. After all, Steve doesn't really have any reason to lie to him, but all he remembers is waking up in the basement of Stark Tower and being handcuffed to a bed with an IV stuck in him. Not to mention being shirtless and wearing someone else's pants too.  
He later found out that doctor named Helen Cho had removed his clothes since they where covered in blood and was in the process of getting him a shirt (or as he later found out, stealing it from a guy called Clint) when he woke up.  
She had thrown out the bloody clothes he had arrived in. They were made of a rough, thin fabric and he'd only wear them when waiting for the next mission or to be put in cryo so it wasn't a big loss anyways.  
The clothes he has now are better. Much better. The shirts even come in different colors (though he prefers the darker colors since they are easier on the eyes.)  
There's an abrupt knock at the door and Bucky freezes instinctively.  
"Buck? You alright in there?" Says a familiar voice though the door.  
He relaxes, "Uh, yeah. I'm fine. The door's unlocked..."  
“Hey,” Steve says as he comes in the room and his cheeks turn a rosy shade of red when he realizes that Bucky is still pulling his pants up.  
Bucky doesn't reply as he finishes getting dressed and grabs his shoes off the closet floor.  
Steve hesitates before speaking, trying his best to indirectly ask the question that’s on the top of his tongue, "How did you sleep?" His bloodshot eyes tell him everything, and yet he still feels the need to have him confirm it.  
He doesn't respond and Steve shifts his weight from foot awkwardly. "Brought you some pain meds..." He says, lifting up the small ziplock bag containing the orange pills.  
Bucky looks up at him, then at the bag. "My back isn't hurting today." That's all he says.  
"Well," He licks his bottom lip nervously and puts the small bag on the bedside table, "it's right here if you need it."  
He nods his head.  
Steve hesitantly sits down next to him as he finishes tying his shoes. Bucky admires how much he trusts him. Giving him pills, letting him be in a room by himself; if the roles were reversed he can't say he'd do the same. Steve _does_ realize what he's done, right? He should be in a cell, not a furnished bedroom.  
"Given any thought to Tony's offer?" He asks.  
Bucky glances at his arm. After escaping he realized how much the weight of it strained his back, before then he'd been too busy with missions and the like to notice. "A little."  
"And?"  
He hesitates, "I want the prosthetic. I just don't the pain that comes with it."  
Steve raises an eyebrow.  
"You and Natasha had to hold me down when the memory of getting _this_ one came back. I'm not sure if I want to go through that again." Bucky looks at the ground, "I'm sorry."  
He'd had no idea how he ended up with the arm prior to that thanks to routine wipes of his memory over the last 80 years. After all, if they had let him remember about all of the bad things they did to him he would've tried to escape sooner.  
Steve opens his mouth the say something then shuts it as he tries to figure out how to respond. Bucky looks almost embarrassed to him. "It-It's okay Buck. No need to apologize." He looks up at him. "When you want do have it done just tell me; if that's never then that's okay too." He licks his lip nervously, not sure if he said the right thing.  
Bucky seems to think so and nods his head, "Thank you."  
He stutters then decides to just not say anything.  
The silence is awkward and uncomfortable for Steve. He wants to say something but it's as if he's forgotten how to speak. His friend however, seems to be more relaxed now then when Steve was talking to him.  
There's a buzz from the intercom.  
"Yes?" Steve says, still sitting on the bed.  
"You boys better hurry up here before Sam eats your food." Says a female voice. There's a shout of protest behind her, probably from Sam, but it's playful. "I didn't know that being able to eat everything was a superpower of his." There's another shout, this time followed by laughter.  
"Steve, I need you to save me from these people. They are harassing me!" Says Sam who's apparently taken over the intercom in the dining room.  
"Don't worry, we'll be down in a minute." Steve chuckles.  
Bucky stands up before he does and opens the door.  
Steve gets up slowly and walks through the door way, his friend following close behind.  
Once inside the elevator, Bucky presses himself into the corner.  
Steve presses the button for the 19th floor, pretending not to notice as Bucky grabs onto the railing when they start to rise.  
He doesn't seem too interested in what Steve's doing, instead watching the digital floor number rise, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull out his phone and text Natasha.  
[8:10:15] STEVE: Bucky’s tense.  
[8:10:17] NAT PHONE #1: any idea why?  
[8:10:18] STEVE: Might’ve remembered something. Not really sure though.  
[8:10:18] STEVE: The elevator isn't helping.  
[8:10:19] NAT PHONE #1: ok  
[8:10:20] NAT PHONE #1: I’ll talk to him  
[8:10:20] NAT PHONE #1: ask him if he wants to take the stairs next time. it's a haul but if he hates the elevator this much...  
He’s about to text back that she doesn’t need to, that they shouldn't push him to answer their questions, but there’s the familiar “ding” of the elevator as it stops and Bucky glances at him.  
The doors open and he sweet scent of fruit and coffee flood the cramped box. Bucky's grip on the railing loosens and his noticeably relax. He always did have a thing for food.  
"Well, look who finally arrived!" Sam says as he looks up from his plate. He lowers his voice so only Steve can hear it, "Your friends are crazy!" There's a fondness to his voice which makes Steve smile.  
Natasha gestures towards two plates next to her, each with a stack of waffles and fruit on them, "These are yours. If they aren't enough for your super-soldier sized appetites we can make more."  
Bucky quietly takes his seat next to her and Steve sits in the seat next to him, looking at Natasha out of the corner of his eye.  
Bucky trusts her. Maybe even more than he trusts him, but Steve doesn't really care. He's just glad that he isn't the only one he trusts.  
"Стив беспокоится о вас . (Steve is worried about you.)" She says after a minute.  
Steve doesn't know what she said but whatever it was seems to grab Bucky's attention.  
"Я в порядке. (I'm fine.)"  
"Вы уверены, что? (Are you sure about that?)”  
He doesn’t respond and instead takes a bite of a waffle.  
She looks down at her phone for a moment but doesn't read any of the text, instead trying to keep Bucky from thinking that she's pressuring him for answers, which she technically is. "Как спалось? (How did you sleep?)"  
He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes; he's already been asked that today. _How did you sleep? How are you feeling? What do you remember?_ Can everyone just stop asking questions for once? He rarely knows how to answer them anyways. He takes another bite of his food as if she had never said anything.  
Natasha looks at Steve and sighs, not wanting to push it and ruin the trust he’s put in her.  
He nods. He didn't expect much anyways.  
It's uncomfortably quiet for a minute and Bucky is noticeably tense, which changes the atmosphere of the room completely. The playful banter from the other end of the table has stopped. It's been replaced by held breaths and nervous glances. Even Steve has to admit that when Bucky becomes quiet he feels a bit uneasy.  
Natasha doesn't seem too affected by his silence however, she even grabs a grape from the bowl beside her plate.  
She's been watching Bucky since he first arrived. Studying him; analyzing him. Trying to find the weaknesses that many don't believe exist. But, if her calm demeanor means anything, she found some.  
Clint glances at him every few seconds, one hand holding a fork and the other resting on his thigh where, unbeknownst to Bucky, he's hiding a small gun in case something happens. Clint's not used to a gun, he's only used one a few times before, but he can't be inconspicuous with a giant bow and arrow slung onto his back.  
Sam pushes around a piece of melon with his fork.  
"So," Steve says, wanting to break the silence before it suffocated him, "Has anyone seen Tony today?"  
It isn't uncommon for Tony to skip out on breakfast but it was the first thing he could think of.  
"He came out here a few minutes before you did and grabbed a waffle."  
Steve looks around to see where the voice came from and spots Bruce leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee, "He left right after that."  
"He just grabbed it with his bare hands." Clint says under his breath, looking at his own hand in disbelief, "He didn't even take a napkin or anything."  
"Yeah," Sam nods, "'came out here looking like he was hit by a truck."  
"More like 10 trucks." Bruce puts his coffee down, "I wonder what he's up too."  
"Blowing up something probably." Says Clint.  
Everyone laughs except for Bucky who, to Steve's dismay, just takes a bite of a melon piece.  
"Steve," Sam says, glancing at Bucky, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He's smiling but Steve can see right through it.  
He looks at Bucky, debating whether or not he should leave him alone with the others, but Natasha assures him with a nod that she'll look after him.  
Steve gets up, prompting Bucky to look up at him curiously; he must've been too lost in thought to hear what Sam said.  
"Don't worry, I'll be right back." Steve says almost apologetically, and Bucky turns back to his plate.  
He follows Sam out into the hallways, going past what must've been 20 doors before Sam stops and turns to him.  
"What the hell is going on?" He asks, one hand gesturing down the hallway towards the dining room and the other across his chest.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Don't play dumb, you know exactly what I'm talking about."  
Steve leans against the wall and sighs, "I don't know."  
"What do you mean you don't know?"  
"I mean he's not telling me anything."  
Sam's quiet for a moment, thinking about something.  
"Do you think he remembered something?" He asks. There's concern in Sam's voice, but Steve can't tell if it's for himself or Bucky.  
"Yeah; probably," He rubs the bridge of his nose, "but whenever I ask he adverts the question."  
“Maybe you should have Nat talk to him; let them bond over their traumas some more. She might be able to get him to open up to her about this type of stuff.”  
“Already tried. She wasn’t able to get anything out of him. I’ll see if she can try again later though.”  
“I could try to talk to him…” Sam pauses, thinking about what he just said, “But he doesn’t really like me."  
“When he gets a bit better we’ll work on his relationship with you.” Steve laughs, but he’s completely serious. “I think he might feel guilty for ripping your wings off.”  
“As he should be.” Sam says half-jokingly, following Steve back to the dining hall, “That was an expensive piece of equipment.”  
Steve grabs his arm, then immediately lets go of it, "I might've already told you this, but thank you for trying to make him feel comfortable here despite what he did."  
"Yeah, no problem man..." He rubs the spot where Steve had grabbed him, "Damn, you're strong."  
"Sorry." He puts his hands in his pocket. Will he ever grow used to his strength? "I just needed to tell you before I forgot."  
They start walking again and Steve freezes when he re-enters the room. Something has changed. His eyes dart around for a moment, trying to find the source of his unease, then he sees Bucky’s chair. It’s empty.  
Despite that, everyone seems fine. It’s like they never even knew Bucky left, which strikes Steve as strange. People should be getting their gear on and Jarvis is supposed to lock the building down if Bucky makes a break for it.  
Sam taps his shoulder and he almost punches him. He should know better than to touch him when he’s tense.  
“No need to get all worked up,” Sam says, “He's right over there.”  
Steve’s eyes follow to where Sam is pointing. It was the last thing he’d expect Bucky to be doing and yet there he was, his hands submerged in sudsy water as he tried his best to wash the dishes.  
He lets out an embarrassed "Oh." He trusts Bucky, and yet whenever he isn’t in is direct view he gets scared that he’s run away. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s afraid deep down there’s a part of him that still doesn’t trust Bucky. But that’s ridiculous… right?  
There are only two plates left on the table, Steve and Sam's, but all the cups have been left since the others are still taking sips off of them.  
Sam sits down and pours himself another cup of juice from the jug on the table, passing it Steve afterwards so he can do the same.  
He looks at his stack of waffles, the slice of butter he had put on them has long since melted into them, creating a soggy patch in the otherwise perfect waffles. Gross.  
Glancing back at Bucky, whose hands are covered in water, he cuts into his waffles which are surprisingly warm despite being left out.  
Natasha is still at the table, occasionally taking sips off of the strawberry smoothie she makes every morning and checking her phone.  
"So, Mr. America, what are your plans for today?" She puts her phone down, the screen reads "Natasha Romanoff: Friend or Foe?" in bold letters at the top.  
"I'm not really sure yet. I was going to take Bucky out into the city but I'm reconsidering it since he seems a bit..." Steve doesn't know what word to describe Bucky's mood today but Natasha nods her head in understanding.  
"I'm taking Clint shooting today; you could come along." She says, "Don't tell Tony, but we're going to take one of his cars, probably the Maserati but if you come with I'll let you choose."  
"That's a very generous offer, but..." He glanced over at Bucky who's started to stack the plates, his metal arm shining more than usual from the water that's still on it. Steve can't help but be concerned about it rusting despite Tony assuring him that that type of metal doesn't.  
"He'll be fine for a few hours; Bruce, Sam, and Tony are all keeping a steady eye on him. Plus, it would be good for you to get out of the tower, you haven't left here at all for the last week and a half."  
"I know but," he sighs, "I can't leave him... not again."  
She puts a hand on his arm, "What happened to him wasn't your fault. You need to learn that."  
She's been telling him that ever since Steve told about the man behind the mask of the Winter Soldier but he still doesn't believe it, he won't _let_ himself believe it.  
It is his fault. It is _all_ his fault. He feels guilty for every drop of blood that Bucky's shed and every life he's ended. It could've all been prevented had he had reached a little farther; been a little stronger.  
He's never ever going to let himself live this down; no matter how many times Natasha might tell him too.  
"I know that." He lies, "I think I'm going to stay here. If I went I would just be worrying about him and I'd ruin the outing."  
"Really?"  
"Yeah. I'll make sure that Tony doesn't notice one of his cars are missing while you're gone. The last thing you need is to be chased down the highway by Iron-Man."  
She laughs, "Well, if you ever want to go shooting just ask." Glancing over at Bucky she adds, "And when he's all better he can come too."  
Steve can't help but feel a bit upset when she says that and she smiles sympathetically, they both know he won't be "all better" for a long time, if ever.  
"I have a Netflix account you can use if you want." She glances at him, "Netflix is a-"  
"I know what Netflix is." He's been here long enough to be able to understand this type of stuff, but everyone still feels the need to explain, just in case he forgot.  
"I'm sure today's movies are a lot better than the ones you guys saw back in the 40's."  
"Only the effects are better, the plots are the same." Maybe it would be good for Bucky to see a modern day movie, but he's afraid that he might see something that will trigger some not-so-pretty memories. "Any recommendations? Preferably something easy to process and doesn't have anything too-"  
She cuts him off, "Got it. You should look into some children's movies. There's one called "Bambi" which is good." A pause, "You might want to skip the beginning though."  
"I think we've might've already seen that one. It was released in 1942, right?" He swears he can remember seeing a movie with the same name. Bucky had taken a girl to see it for a date and Steve came along at his friend's request; Bucky never did like to leave him out of his sight.  
She shrugs, "Not sure. Just browse through the movies and text me when you find one you like. If I've seen it before, I'll tell you if there are any parts you should skip, alright?"  
"Good with me."  
He hears a clatter behind him and he twists around so fast his torso hurts.  
Bucky is fine, much to Steve's relief, and there's a plate on the ground. It's not broken, but with the way Bucky is staring at it it might as well be.  
He looks around the table, all eyes are switching between looking at him and Bucky, waiting for him to do something.  
He gets up slowly, leaving his half-eaten waffles behind, and makes his way towards his friend. "Buck?"  
Silence.  
Steve grabs the plate and puts it back onto the counter but Bucky's eyes don't move from where it used to be.  
He says his name again and glances back at everyone. Bruce is still leaning against the wall having stopped mid-sip and Clint's hand hovers over where is gun is; ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.  
He reaches his hand out towards him, stopping before it makes contact with his shoulder.  
Is touching him really the best idea?  
Steve inhales. It's not the best but it's the only one he has.  
He puts his hand on his shoulder and feels Bucky jolt under his touch.  
I'm a blur he shrugs off his hand and steps back, eyes as big as saucers.  
"Wha-" He can't form the words and his chest rises and falls rapidly.  
"Buck," Steve says. Panicked eyes meet his and stay like that for what seems like an eternity. He can practically see the damaged gears inside Bucky's head start turning again.  
"Steve?" He says as his breathing slows to a somewhat normal speed.  
"It's me." There's a sigh of relief from both of them, "Are you okay?"  
Bucky hesitates before answering, "I think so..."  
"Let me take you back up to your room, you should lay-"  
"No!"  
Steve is taken aback by the sudden hardness and demand in his voice. Bucky seems to notice it too.  
"I'm fine. Really." He gives him a small smile but it doesn't ease Steve's worries. He's been around him long enough to know when he's forcing a smile. "I was putting the dishes away, right?" He asks, as if nothing happened.  
Steve doesn't know what to do but nod his head.  
"I'll go lay down when I finish with them." Bucky pauses and gestures towards Sam, "Are you and him done with your plates?"  
Sam pushes his empty plate across the table so it's closer to Bucky, not wanting to cause any unnecessary problems. He starts to do the same with Steve's before he realizes it still has food on it.  
"It's okay," Steve says, "I'm done." He's still hungry, but he doesn't feel like eating. Not right now.  
Sam stacks the plates on top of each other and Bucky retrieves them silently.  
Steve doesn't move as he starts to wash the two extra dishes, wondering why Bucky feels the need to hide his problems from them, from him. He _does_ trust him, right? They haven't given him a reason not to; well, at least he doesn't _think_ they have.  
He sits back down next to Natasha and sighs as he rubs his temples. He can practically sense that a headache is coming.  
Natasha pats his back, wordlessly trying to tell him that everything’s going to turn out okay in the end, but the message doesn't reach him. His head sinks.  
No one says anything. The only sound he hears is the occasional screech of metal against glass.  
"I'm going to use the restroom," he says getting up.  
She gives him a sympathetic look but leaves him be; understanding what he’s really about to do. She can’t blame him; he’s under a lot of stress. If she was in his position she’d cry too, but she’s not. All she is is a witness to a man trying to fix his friend while unknowingly breaking himself in the process.  
Plus, her affection doesn’t really extend to people who shoot at her; no matter the circumstances.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains talk about delusions, mental health, and unreality.  
> So I upped the rating to teen (I honestly don't know why I didn't do that originally) and changed the summary since I thought the original one was too lighthearted and misleading. I know the summary sucks right now (it's an altered excerpt from this chapter) but don't worry it's just there until I think of a better one. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Bucky had fallen asleep as soon as he laid down, leaving Steve alone in the chair in the corner.  
Everything's still except for the rise and fall of Bucky's chest. Silence covers the room like a thick blanket. It brings back memories of the good ol' days, as corny as that may sound. The days where Bucky would watch over him as he slept instead of the other way around and when his fights only had a few bruises at stake, not the fate of the world.  
He's not sure if Bucky realizes it, most likely not, but when he's asleep he tends to shrink. Not literally of course, but it seems like he's unconsciously trying to take up the least amount of space that he can. Currently, he's sleeping right next to edge and only takes up about 1/5th of the bed. Steve's worried that he might fall off if he doesn't move over to the center soon. He hasn't even touched the covers.  
Once every few minutes Bucky's breath quickens and a cold, worried rush of adrenaline will shoot through him.  
He knows it's nightmare. He saw tons of people get them back during the war and after a while he just learned to ignore them. It sounds bad, and it feels worse, but he really didn't have a choice. Captain America can't really punch Hitler in the jaw if he's half asleep, now can he? And yet, whenever Bucky gets one it feels as if someone's removed all the air in the room. It's not just another man having a nightmare; it's _Bucky_ having a nightmare. He can't just ignore it.  
Steve wants to wake him up, hold him tight and tell him everything's okay. Bucky would do that to him if the roles were reversed. And yet, he's told Steve time and time again to not wake him up if he's having a nightmare. For both Steve's safety and his own.  
So, Steve forces himself to believe that Bucky's just messing with him, making him get up to check on him only to sit back down again seconds later; even if he is asleep.  
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, his eyes not moving from his friend's sleeping body until he turns it on and his eyes instinctively go to the bright light.  
9:26AM reads the top of the screen as he pulls up the digital keyboard. Thank god, it's still early. If it was any later this nap of his might've messed up his sleep schedule. The last thing Bucky needs is to be up all night.  
[9:26:49] STEVE: Can you come up and watch Bucky?  
[9:27:02] NAT PHONE #1: sure  
[9:27:04] NAT PHONE #1: everything ok?  
[9:27:07] STEVE: Yeah. He's asleep. It's just time for my morning jog.  
[9:27:08] NAT PHONE #1: I'll be there in a min  
Not more than 30 seconds later the door opens.  
"How's he been doing?" She says as she closes the door behind her, trying her best not to make any loud noises.  
He gets up from the chair with sore legs. He's been sitting for too long. "I think he might be having a nightmare."  
"I see." She glances at Bucky and gives him a look over, Well, you go have your run and I'll watch sleeping beauty." Taking his place in the chair, she pulls out her phone from the pocket of her jeans.  
He glances back at his friend and Natasha waves a dismissive hand at him, "You gonna go or what?"  
He nods his head and leaves, the image of his friend sleeping stays in his head. Natasha's right. He really is a sleeping beauty.  
***  
He's only run 6 miles when Natasha texts him again.  
[9:49:03] NAT PHONE #1: he's up.  
He stops the treadmill and steps off. For the last few weeks he's been using the treadmill in the exercise room instead of going to an actual track. It's closer to Bucky in case something happens and on top of that, the A/C is amazing. He wishes he'd had it back in the 40's. A fan can only do so much.  
[9:50:01] STEVE: I'll be up in a few.  
[9:50:06] NAT PHONE #1: shower first please. the last thing he needs is to smell your super-soldier sweat  
[9:50:08] STEVE: Sure thing.  
He grabs his water bottle off the bench that's against the wall and let's himself enjoy the feeling of the cool water running down his throat.  
He nearly chokes on it when he hears the door open behind him.  
"Hey." says a familiar voice.  
"Hi, Clint." Steve says turning around and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. "I didn't know you worked out."  
"I do sometimes." He shrugs casually, "Evidently not often enough though."  
There's the sharp "ding" of a phone notification.  
Steve glances at his phone which sits on the bench; the once dark screen has lit up again.  
[9:52:02] NAT PHONE #1: you okay? did you slip in the shower or something?  
[19:52:03] NAT PHONE #1: i can buy you a shower chair if you want. i mean, at your age it's normal to need one...  
He picks up his phone.  
[9:52:06] STEVE: Very funny.  
[9:52:09] STEVE: I got caught up talking with Clint. See you in a few minutes.  
"Who are you texting?" Clint asks as Steve puts his phone back down. "That is, if it's not classified or anything."  
He chuckles, "Just Natasha. She's watching Bucky and he just woke up."  
Clint only nods as he gets up on one of the treadmills. "I don't know how you do it..." He says under his breath.  
Steve raises an eyebrow, "Turn on the treadmill? There should be a button-"  
"No, no, no." Clint says shaking his head, "I mean how are you so willing to trust James? After everything he's done?"  
"His name is Bucky," Steve says instinctively, "and I trust him because he's my friend."  
"I know that. I mean, you two are practically connected at the hip, but just because your friends doesn't erase the fact that he has killed over two dozen people." He shrugs dismissively, "No offense or anything."  
No offense? He scoffs. This whole conversation is offending and Clint knows it. "It wasn't really him." He says, "You've been under someone else's control too. I thought you'd be more understanding." There's a sharp, venomous tone in his voice.  
Clint leans on the treadmill. "There's a difference."  
Steve shakes his head as he starts to pick up his stuff, "Not really."  
"I hope your looking at this situation as an Avenger. Not as Steve Rogers." Clint calls after him as he starts to leave.  
He pauses in the doorway. "If being an Avenger means I can't take care of Bucky then I quit." He shuts the door before Clint can reply.  
Clint can believe what he wants, but Steve draws the line when he starts to force his paranoid beliefs onto other people.  
He sighs and heads towards the elevator. A shower sounds great right now.  
***  
_You took too long. We're in meeting room 1B next to the lobby._  
Steve sighs and pulls the yellow sticky note off of the door.  
The ride down is uneventful. With no one but himself to keep him company the elevator feels slower.  
Finally after what seems like forever the elevator doors open, revealing an empty lobby.  
It takes him a few minutes to find the meeting room. The hallways are like a white walled maze.  
He opens the door and Natasha greets him from behind a stack of boxes while Bucky silently sits in one of the chairs next to the table.  
"Hey." He runs a hand through his wet hair, trying to make it look at least somewhat presentable. He would've done it in his room with some actual hair gel but he didn't want to keep them waiting any longer than they already had. "Sorry for taking so long."  
She waves him off and pulls a pocket knife out of her boot, "At least you showered." She starts slicing open the tape on the boxes. Steve wonders if she had the knife in her shoe the whole time. Probably.  
Bucky doesn't seem all that interested in what's going on. All he just stares vacantly at the wall.  
"What is it?" Steve asks, returning his gaze to Natasha. The way she's smiling sets him on edge.  
She pulls a thin stack of photos out of one box, the corners of them tearing and hinted with yellow. "Your friend's stuff."  
Bucky looks over at her and raises an eyebrow.  
"Well, _some_ of his stuff." A piece of hair falls over her eyes and she brushes it away, "Collectors sure can be greedy. Thank god it was Tony's money I was using." She hands the photos over to Bucky and continues to inspect the contents of the other boxes.  
"Collectors?" He says raising an eyebrow as he absently runs his finger down the sides of the photos.  
Natasha looks up at him, then to Steve who's nervously shifts his weight from foot to foot.  
He continues, "Why do they have my stuff?"  
"Well..." How is he supposed to say that some people are fascinated by the horrible things that happened back then without making it sound like, well, _that?_  
Thankfully, Natasha steps in and saves him from embarrassing himself. "You were Captain America's best friend." She puts something onto the table next to the box it came from, "You're famous by association."  
He glances down at the photos, the top one is of a group of people including Steve and someone who he _thinks_ might be himself. He brings a hand up to touch his hair. Was it really that short back then? He had assumed it had always been this long. He looks back at the photos; his eyes drink in every detail. The medals on their chests, the drinks in their hands, and the smiles on their faces; all things foreign to him and yet familiar. He should recognize these people. He knows he should. But they might as well be strangers. How can this stuff be his of he doesn't even recognize it? His head starts to hurt as he tries to remember something, anything, but it's as if Hydra had put a cement wall between him and his memories. "But do they know what I did? What came after all that?" He pauses and puts the stack of photos face down on the table, "I would've thrown this stuff out if I were them."  
Natasha hesitates, "They don't know what you did. They never will. They still think James Barnes is dead."  
"And they're right, he is." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, "I'm going back to my room. Tell JARVIS not to shoot me since I'm walking there without an escort."  
"I understand." JARVIS says suddenly, causing Steve to jump, "However, if you don't go directly to your room I will have too. Those _were_ the terms you agreed to when you first arrived."  
Bucky nods his head in a silent agreement and leaves. Steve finds himself still staring at the door even after he's left.  
"What's with him today?" Natasha says as she resumes unpacking, "He wakes up grumpy and now he's full on depressed." A few packing peanuts stick to her arms and she brushes them off.  
"I don't know." He picks up the photos. "Yesterday he was fine." The top one is of him and the Howling Commandos. They were celebrating yet another successful mission and of course, most of them were drunk. It was the last mission they had where none of them were casualties. He puts the photos back down but leaves them face up, "I'll go talk to him."  
Natasha reaches over and grabs his arm, "You need to give him some space. I don't know what's going on with him but I doubt it'll get any better if you go up there without letting him cool off first."  
She tosses something at him and he barely catches it. "A boot?" He looks at the piece of leather foot wear in his hands. Dirt crumbles off of it and onto the floor.  
"A boot." She says with a smirk.  
***  
The dog tags weigh heavy in his hands as the elevator rises. Natasha left to go shooting with Clint and left him alone to unpack the other boxes.  
He found some interesting things, including an old baseball cap and a sketch of him that Steve drew what seems like ages ago. He even found his own mother's ring which now sits in his pocket. It's not the most secure place, but it'll do until he gets back to his room. The collector must've mistaken the ring for Bucky's mother's and Natasha bought it thinking that too. He's glad it happened though. He thought he'd lost it forever.  
He'll give Bucky the rest of his stuff later, but right now the only thing he feels could help in the recovery of his memory are the tags.  
He thumbs over the information pressed into the thin metal, small pieces of dirt coming free each time.  
Where the collector got these he has no idea. Until now, he had thought they were in Hydra's dumpster along with the rest of his stuff.  
The only explanation is that they came off when Bucky fell, but that means people other than Hydra searched the ravine. Was this really all they found? He swallows hard. Did they find his arm? Does some collector have it preserved in a class case? Or did they leave it there at the bottom of the ravine, not knowing its significance? That arm had held him tight when he was scared, carried him when he was so sick he couldn't move; it was the only part of Bucky that was spared from what Hydra did to him.  
The elevator slows to a halt, the doors opening into a wide, deserted hallway.  
Bucky's room is easy to find. He's been to it more times than he can count over the past two weeks. The door to it is slightly ajar, which shouldn't concern him as much as it does.  
"Buck?" He calls out hesitantly as he opens the door, stuffing the dog tags into his pocket.  
The only response is a quiet shuffle. It takes him a moment to find him, but when he does his heart drops.  
Bucky's in the space between the bed and the wall, knees up to his chin.  
"Who am I, Steve?" He says, not even looking up.  
The question takes him by surprise and doesn't fully understand it. He tries to answer, but he's not not sure if it's the answer he's looking for. "You're Bucky."  
"I don't know if I believe you."  
"What do you mean?"  
Bucky leans his head back and sighs, "They keep telling me that you're lying, that I'm someone else, and at first I could just tune them out but I can't anymore and they are making me doubt _everything_."  
"They?" Steve lies on his side on the bed but because Bucky is on the floor he's a foot higher than him. His elbow digs into the comforter.  
They look like they are having a sleep over. Oh, does Steve wish that were just the case.  
"I see 'em whenever I close my eyes." Bucky looks up at him, his eyes brimming with tears, "They're in my head, Steve."  
"Do you know them?" He asks, starting to worry that Bucky's sanity might be leaving him. He shifts uncomfortably. Natasha had warned him about something like this happening, but he never really believed it would actually happen. Not to someone like Bucky.  
What's he supposed to do if it turns out Bucky isn't as mentally sound as he was lead to believe? He can't just drop him off at an asylum and let that be the end of it. No, Steve has to be the one to fix him. It's the only way. He licks his lips nervously. How is he supposed to do that?  
Bucky nods his head solemnly, "I used too."  
"'Used too?'"  
He looks back down at his knees. "I killed 'em."  
He picks at a loose string on his socks as he waits for Steve's response but he doesn't know if he _can_ respond. It feels like someone removed his lungs and replaced them with bricks.  
"Steve?" Bucky says after a minute, he looks up at him with worried eyes.  
Steve has to remind himself to take deep breaths. He hasn't had to do this since the 40's when he had asthma, but even then it'd usually be Bucky who'd tell him too.  
"You-" He hesitates. _Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out._ "You killed them?"  
"I was trying to escape. They were in the way." Bucky shrugs, "It was instinct."  
"So they were Hydra?"  
He nods slowly and Steve relaxes a little. Murder is murder, no matter who the victim is, but at least they weren't innocent people.  
"Mostly guards. One surgeon." Steve swears he can see a small smile form on his face when he says the last part.  
He probably would've killed the surgeon too had he been there with Bucky, who knows what they did to him, but to hear him talking about doing it so calmly still makes him uncomfortable.  
At a loss for words, he pulls out the dog tags. The metallic clink grabs Bucky's attention.  
"Th-Those people are dead. You might still see them but they can't hurt you unless you let them." It's a slight variation of what Steve's own SHIELD-appointed therapist had told him. He hands the tags over to him and watches as his eyes travel over the name. "James Buchanan Barnes." Steve says, reciting what's on the tags, "My Bucky." He bites his lip and Bucky stares at the information imprinted in the metal like it's the world's greatest secret. " _That's_ who you are. Don't let them tell you otherwise."  
He nods his head, the tags wrapped around his flesh hand. "Thank you."  
Steve gets up awkwardly, brushing his hands on the side of his pants even though there's nothing in them. "You-" He stutters, "you need water or anything? I can go get you some..."  
Bucky shakes his head, "No, I'm fine."  
Steve starts to leave. The air in the room feels like it's working against him. "Oh-Okay. If you need anything just shout." He grabs onto the door knob, "Or just tell Jarvis." Oh god, he sounds so stupid.  
Shutting the door behind him, he takes a much needed deep breath.  
***  
Steve knocks on the door to the lab with a shaky fist, "Bruce? Tony? You guys in there?"  
He can hear a wheeled chair glide across the floor. "Yeah, I'm here." Says a male voice, "Don't com-"  
He's already opened the door. "What are you doing?"  
"Nothing." Bruce removes a needle from his arm.  
"Then what's that?"  
He sighs and puts the syringe down then runs his hands over his face. "What do you want?"  
"Well the first thing I want is for you to stop using yourself as a lab rat. The second is some advice." Steve pauses and raises an eyebrow, "Where's Tony?"  
"Went to the store for more coffee." He yawns, "What type of advice?"  
Steve pulls a chair over. He has a feeling this conversation might get long. "It's about Bucky."  
Bruce chuckles, "That's way above my pay grade."  
"You don't get paid, Bruce."  
"I was joking." Grabbing the syringe, he puts it into a container and secures the clasps. "What's the problem?"  
"I-" He licks his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase it so it doesn't sound as bad. Bucky's already on thin ice, but if the others find out that his mental state is way worse than they originally thought they might decide to give him up to the CIA as a safety concern. "Bucky's not doing so well."  
Bruce adjusts his glasses, "How so?"  
"Well, you saw what happened in the dining hall. He's also been sleeping all the time."  
"The sleep thing is normal for someone who's been in cryo for as long as he has. Remember when you were thawed out? You slept for 2 weeks straight. It's a similar situation."  
Steve just nods his head. He actually doesn't remember any of that.  
"Regarding what happened in the dining hall, he probably has PTSD. Really, _really,_ badly." He pauses, "You know what? I take that back. I'm certain he has it."  
"What can we do about it?" He asks through the lump in his throat.  
Bruce shrugs, " _Us?_ Nothing. A psychiatrist might be able to do something though."  
"Tony suggested that when he first arrived. Do you really think they might help?" Would Bucky even go if he made him an appointment?  
"No harm in trying."  
He gets up slowly as he nods his head, "Thank you."  
Bruce waves it off, "Good luck."  
Steve pulls out his phone as soon as he enters the hallway and, with shaking fingers, dials a number.  
He can't help but feel like he's doing something bad as he waits for the man on the other end to pick up.  
"Hey, Cap, what's up?" Tony finally says, the audible hum of fluorescent lights behind his voice.  
He tries to reason with himself that this is good. Bucky took care of him in the past, doing this is just returning the favor.  
"Remember that lady you were telling me about?" His voice shakes.  
"The specialist?"  
"Yeah, that one." He pauses and bites his lip, "I think we need her."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for gore, doctors, unreality, dissociation, violence, blood, screaming/yelling, and crying. (Wow, that's a long list.)  
> Sorry for the shorter chapter and late update y'all! I was at Comic-Con International! I met and got a photo with two of my favorite actors so it was pretty cool. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"You think I'm crazy..."  
"No I don't! I just think you could you some extra help, that's all."  
Bucky sits on the end of his bed, not looking at Steve. They've been arguing for the past half hour.  
"I'm worried about you."  
"Why?" Bucky asks, glaring at him, "I'm perfectly fine."  
"No you’re not." He pauses. "Just yesterday you told me there were people in your head."  
"Yeah, and now I'm starting to regret that."  
"I just..." He runs a hand down his face, "I just want you to be okay."  
He doesn't respond and stares at the floor lost in thought.  
"After you left to go to war those years ago, I started to notice the people coming back. They might've been home but their minds never left the battlefield. The last thing I wanted was for that to happen to you." Steve sighs, "I had hoped that if I fought with you I could save you from becoming like that, that we could maybe, _just maybe_ , come home unscathed. But I messed up and Hydra got their hands on you because of it." He looks up at him, "Let me fix what I broke."  
Bucky says nothing for a few moments after, leaving Steve to wipe away a tear that had fallen into his cheek in silence. He mumbles under his breath, " _Dammit,_ Steve."  
Steve's heart drops. "I'm sorry. I just-" He shuts his mouth and sighs. He shouldn't push him to do it.  
"Don't apologize." Bucky runs his hands over his face bites his lip, "I'll do it."  
His eyes widen. He certainly wasn't expecting to hear that. He can't say he's not happy about it though. "You never did like to see me cry." He sniffles, a small grin forming on his face.  
Bucky nods his head and looks back down at the floor.  
He's been told that accepting help is the first step to recovery. Man, does he hope that's true.  
Steve doesn't know what to say and pats his hand on his friend's back. Absently letting it rest on the hard muscles there for a moment.  
Bucky flinches at his touch. Having someone touch him tenderly after years of nothing but gruff pulls and grabs feels wrong. People aren't supposed to touch him like that. And yet, he can't help but crave more.  
"I'll let you get dressed," He says realizing that he's still in his sleepwear.  
He nods his head and Steve exits, leaving him alone in his room with only his thoughts and inner demons to keep him company.  
***  
Tony paces back and forth in the lobby. The others have already gone down to the interrogation room where everything will be taking place, leaving him alone to wait for the doctor. The only people not here for the appointment are Bruce, who's still working in the lab, and Sam, who's still asleep despite it being 10am.  
"Tony!" He hears a woman call from the front of the lobby.  
He turns around, "Dr. Brennan!" She's wearing loose, wide-necked, shirt and a pair of black slacks to Tony's relief. He was afraid she'd come wearing something that showed more skin than appropriate.  
"It's so good to see you again." She leans against him, her clipboard pokes into his stomach uncomfortably.  
She puts a small kiss on his cheek, "I do miss our appointments..."  
"So do I," He's says taking a step back, "but I'm in a relationship now."  
"I see." She pauses and Tony swears he can see a bit of disappointment on her face before she starts smiling again. "So!" She claps her hands together, "Where's James?"  
"He's downstairs." He pauses, "You got the files I sent to you, right?"  
"Yep! Very interesting. I can't wait to meet him!" She says, as enthusiastic as always.  
He chuckles, "Okay then. The elevator is this way."  
She follows him in, and looks at the elevator buttons with wide, almost terrified, eyes.  
"What's wrong?" He asks. She's had never been very interested in the buttons in the past. He pulls out his Avenger's card and sticks it into a slit next to the buttons causing two to light up like the rest. He presses the one labeled "B1".  
"Oh, nothing." She says, replacing all signs of worry with a smile, "I just always forget how many floors this building has."  
"It's okay. It amazes me too sometimes; and it's _my_ building!" He tries his best to match her enthusiasm and make conversation, but it's hard to do when she acts like she just ate an entire bag of sugar. Thankfully, she's only like this when she excited. After all, if she always acted like this he wouldn't have slept with her multiple times.  
She laughs and her sleeve falls off her shoulder, a red patch of skin taking its' place.  
"I don't remember you having a birthmark there." Tony says eying it.  
She freezes, her hands tightening around the clip board, "It's umm... not a birthmark."  
"Oh?"  
She stutters and chuckles nervously, "One of my patients had an obsession with fire; you can probably guess what happened next." Smiling sadly, she looks away as if embarrassed.  
Tony feels bad for bringing it up, it's obviously something that she doesn't want to be reminded of. He can relate, there are scars on his own body that he'd rather not remember where they came from. Sadly, the worst one stands out far too much for him to just forget about it.  
"I see." He smiles sympathetically at her and her grip on the clip bored relaxes. There are creases in the paper from where her hands were.  
She pulls up her sleeve higher than it was last time.  
The elevator doors open and she's taken aback by all the screens and the large viewing window on the wall.  
"We're using an interrogation room?"  
"Tony wanted too," says the blonde haired man looking through the window.  
She recognizes him immediately. "You must be Steve." A pause, "Or would you rather be called Captain America?"  
"Just Steve is fine." He says turning around and shaking her hand. "It's an honor to meet you."  
She laughs, "I'm just a psychiatrist! The honor is all mine."  
"Anyone who can listen to Tony talk for more than five minutes deserves praise." Says a voice from the fair side of the room. It’s followed by a series of horribly hidden chuckles from various people.  
"Sorry, but who are you?" She asks.  
"Oh, I'm Clint." He says as he walks over to her, "I'm also the only reasonable person here."  
Steve glares at him.  
"So, is James down there?" She asks, pointing to the window. She hadn't noticed at first but the viewing room is higher than the interrogation room by a couple of feet.  
"Don't call him that." Steve says, "He doesn't like it."  
"Oh. What should I call him then?"  
"Bucky."  
She nods her head. "Okay then! Let's get started!"  
It's only after she sits down in front of Bucky that Steve starts to worry. "Shouldn't we have warned her about getting too close to him? Or how he's prone to zoning out?"  
Tony shrugs, "She's a doctor. I'm sure she knows what she's doing."  
He nods his head as he tries to convince himself that everything will be fine but the paranoia refuses to budge. "There's an intercom in there, right?"  
"It's on the wall next to the door." Tony keeps his eyes locked on steel table that's bolted to the floor. Bucky sits silently on one side while Dr. Brennan takes her seat in front of him.  
She extends a hand to him, "Hello, Bucky! My name's Dr. Brennan!"  
Bucky glances at her hand then looks back at her face.  
She puts her hand back down awkwardly and Steve sighs. He knows that this is the last thing Bucky wants to do but he could at least talk to her.  
Despite everything, she continues to smile, "I have your file here and it says you suffer from... nightmares?" She looks at up at him to confirm it but instead he looks up at the viewing window. Bucky can't see through the dark glass, but Steve still feels like he's staring right at him.  
"Mr. Barnes," Bucky's eyes flicker back to her, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me." She offers a sympathetic smile. "Can you elaborate on these nightmares? Please?"  
He licks his lips, "I-" There's a pause and he shakes his head.  
She sighs and pulls something out of her pocket. Bucky raises an eyebrow.  
Steve's already reached the intercom by the time Tony notices that he isn't standing next to him.  
"Steve, what the hell are-"  
Dr. Brennan tenses as he starts to speak, "Sorry to interrupt, but what are you giving him?" The paranoia of something happening to Bucky sits on his shoulder, whispering the things that could go wrong in his ear.  
She hesitates, and then lifts a small, white tablet above her head so they can see it. "It's a chewable pill. It'll help make him more relaxed." She puts her arm down, "That way he'll be more comfortable talking to me."  
Steve glances at Tony who silently nods his head.  
"Oh-Okay. Go ahead." He's not thrilled about her giving drugs to Bucky, but as Tony said, 'She knows what she's doing'. Steve sure hopes she does.  
She slides the circular tablet over to Bucky who stares it down as if it'll attack him.  
"You've taken pills before right?" She raises an eyebrow, "All you have to do is put it in your mouth and-"  
Bucky shakes his head violently as he pushes his chair back.  
"I can't-"  
She remains seated, "Why not?"  
He stares at her with wide eyes, "I-"  
She grabs his arm and for a moment it looks as if he might calm down.  
Then he punches her.  
Steve, Tony, Clint, and Natasha all scramble over each other as they rush through the hallway. Tony cusses every time one of his feet hit the ground. No matter how hard he pushes he can't seem to run fast enough.  
Everything seems like a blur to Steve. He's not even sure he's fully there. The paranoia he had before seems to laugh at him for not acting on it sooner.  
Clint pulls the gun out of his pants as soon the door opens and immediately points it at Bucky.  
He stays still, his eyes still as wide as saucers. If Clint didn't know better, he might've thought Bucky was shocked about his own actions.  
Tony and Dr. Brennan are out of the room only seconds after. Blood pores from her nose into her blouse, staining it a bright red.  
"Steve," Bucky looks at him pleadingly, "she's not-"  
Steve shakes his head.  
"Наташа ?"  
Natasha glances at him then immediately looks away, "Come on. We'll leave him here for now."  
They start to leave but Clint stands firm, his gun unmoving.  
"That goes for you too, Clint."  
He nods and walks backwards (very well to Steve's amazement) with his finger still on the trigger. He only puts it down when they've entered the hallway and the door's been closed.  
"J.A.R.V.I.S, lock down interrogation room 1A until further notice." There's a series of clinks and thuds from the room as Tony turns back to Dr. Brennan, "There's a bathroom just around the corner where you can clean up. I'm so sorry this happened."  
She wipes her bleeding nose with her sleeve and nods her head.  
"I'm going to go wake up Sam." Steve says awkwardly. Guilt weighs heavy in his stomach and his heart still beats rapidly. The combination of them makes him feel sick.  
Tony nods his head, "Yeah, you do that."  
***  
He shouldn't feel guilty. This wasn't his fault; he didn't know this would happen. But with the way Tony looks at him it might as well be.  
Steve knocks on the door softy. "Sam?" He calls, "We kind of need you."  
No response. He must still be asleep.  
"Sam?" He calls again, this time louder. He sighs when there's no response. "Why do you get to sleep in when I can't... it's unfair I tell you..." He continues to mumble under his break as he opens the door.  
Sam sleeps peacefully on the bed, legs messily wrapped up in the white sheets.  
"Sam." Steve says closing in on him, "Sam, you need to wake up."  
He stirs but doesn't wake.  
"Sam!" He says giving his limp body a small shove.  
"What..." Asks a sleepy voice, "What's going on?"  
"It's almost 11; you need to wake up."  
Sam pushes himself up and looks at him with blurry vision, "What? Oh-Sorry, 'bout that." He yawns, "Just couldn't sleep last night for some reason."  
Steve extends his hand and helps Sam get to his feet.  
"So, how did the meeting with the doctor go? Any improvement?" He lazily pulls a pair of jeans out of his closet.  
"Bucky punched her." He says bluntly.  
Sam looks back at him with wide eyes, "He did what?"  
Steve rolls his eyes, "Meet me down on level B2 after you get dressed. I'll fill you in then."  
"Okay... I guess..."  
***  
"How's she doing?" Steve asks as he steps out of the elevator.  
Tony shrugs and crosses his arms, "She's been in there for the last 15 minutes. I sent Nat to go check on her."  
Steve nods his head, "Sam's up. He'll be down here any minute."  
"Good, good, good..." He licks his lip, "So what are we going to do about, y'know..."  
"I-" Steve freezes and a chill crawls up his spine, "D-Did you hear that?"  
"Did I hear what?"  
This time it's louder. The crunching sound of boots walking over broken glass is all he can focus on. "Get your suit."  
"What? Why-"  
"Intruders on floor 15. Initiating security protocol 6." Says Jarvis through the intercom.  
Tony looks at him with wide eyes, "I'll go get my suit."  
He rolls his eyes as Tony runs off. "Clint, come with me. We need to make sure Natasha and Dr. Brennan are okay."  
Clint nods and pulls his eyes away from his phone and runs up beside him, "Going into the woman's bathroom. This is an all new low for you, Cap."  
"Will you shut up?"  
"Chill out, I'm just joking."  
There's no marks on the door when they get there. They can't say the same for after they leave though. A gun can really damage a lock.  
The door opens slowly. It feels as if the entire world is watching them and are holding their breath.  
There's nothing. And for a moment Steve can feel himself relax. No threats, No bombs, No- The fear comes back to him as fast as it had left.  
"Where's Natasha?" His voice comes out weak, "-and Dr. Brennan?"  
"Wherever that Doctor went it's not with her clothes." Clint says walking into the bathroom. He raises up the bloody blouse.  
"Do you have your earpiece with you?"  
Clint drops the piece of clothing into the floor disgustedly, "Uh, yeah, hold on." He pulls the sleek metal device out of his pocket and tosses it to Steve.  
"You were expecting Bucky's appointment to go wary, weren't you?" He wraps the cold metal around his ear.  
Clint shrugs, "Can you blame me?"  
He presses one of the raised buttons that decorate the earpiece, "Natasha? Can you hear me?" The longer he holds the button down the more his stomach drops. Natasha always has her earpiece on her. It's not like her to not respond when someone's talking to her through it.  
Clint glances at him, "Maybe she left it in her room?"  
"No. She wouldn't do something like that." He shakes his head.  
"Sometimes people forget things-" Clint freezes and glances at the stalls that line the wall, "Did you hear-"  
Steve shushes him. The groans have grown to the sound of a whisper.  
"Nat?" Clint says, "Nat, is that you?"  
Clint can't hear it but Steve can. The small, repetitive sounds of liquid hitting tile. Denial, shock, call it whatever you want, but the thought that it might be blood never crosses Steve's mind.  
It's a leaky faucet. That's all.  
And in a way he's right. It is something leaking, just from a different type of faucet. Or in this case, a vein.  
"Steve!" Someone calls, pulling him out of his trance, "Steve, I need some help!"  
He stumbles backwards. What's going on? Where is he?  
"Steve!" Clint calls again.  
There it is. There's his name again. But why? What's- Oh. Now he remembers.  
"W-what happened?" He asks rubbing his temples. He thinks he knows, but he needs confirmation. It all seems so surreal.  
"Hell if I know! You just zoned out!" Something splashes into the ground, "Steve! God damn it! Steve, I need help!"  
He finally looks at where Clint's voice is coming from. He already knows what he's going to see but that doesn't make it any better.  
Blood leaks through Clint's hands as he presses them onto Natasha's stomach. It seems like the more he tries to stop it the more it bleeds.  
The blood pools around Natasha and stains her clothes red.  
She doesn't cry.  
She doesn't move.  
She doesn't scream.  
  
She doesn't do anything.


	4. Update

As most of you have probably noticed, this has not been updated in a while. I'm really sorry about that. I haven't been in a good place mentally and haven't been able to motivate myself to write. Just because I'm having trouble getting my mental gears to move, doesn't mean this story is over though! I'll add a new chapter in 2 months or less. I'll also start revising the previous chapters starting today! Thank you for all your support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?! Me! Well, sorta. I will continue to write this but the updates will be slow, VERY slow. I'm talking about 1 to 6 months between updates. Sorry. Please don't be mad at me?

"Fuck!"  
Bucky pulls his fist away from the wall, leaving a bright red mark in its place.  
How long has it been? 25 minutes? More? Has he really spent that long brutalizing the wall and cursing to himself?   
He can barely feel the new wave of pain spread over his knuckles as he wipes them off on his shirt, the blood is barley noticeable against the black.  
He runs a hand through his hair but instead of feeling calmed all he feels is cold metal against his scalp. Punching her was a stupid thing to do. He didn't even have a say in the matter, his body just did it as if it had become it's own being.  
"Use your words, not your hands." Isn't that what his elementary school teachers would tell him? Or was it from someone else? It wasn't Hydra, that's for sure.  
Words. We use them everyday almost effortlessly and yet when they are needed most they disappear as if they were never there in the first place. But what, he throws another punch at the wall and two of his fingers pop, was he supposed to say back there? That the pill she was giving him was the same pill Hydra would give him on missions if they started to lose control over him? He was like a dog on a leash, every few years he'd break free and go into the neighbor's yard until the owners were able to fasten the leash on him again. After awhile, the dog doesn't even try to escape because he knows it's futile.  
He had forgotten about the pill until now. About how it would make his mind go so silent he wouldn't even question it when they told him to kill. It was the same type of medication that doctors would give violent patients to sedate them but in a much higher dose. It's not even legal in the U.S.A.  
He exhales sharply through his nose. How much longer will he be forced to stay in here? When will they realize that lady is not who she says she is? Or maybe they've already realized, but it was too late.  
No. He shakes is head to clear the thought. They couldn't have all been taken down by her. They're the Avengers for fuck's sake. It's just not possible, unless- He freezes. Was the shattering glass he heard earlier the sounds of Hydra agents breaking in? Are they inside the building, searching for him? They could be right outside the door and he wouldn't even know it.  
He looks around, the white walls stare back at him with non-existent eyes. He's going to go crazy if he stays in here any longer. He needs to get out, but how?  
He looks over at the metal table, accompanied by two empty chairs. Empty chairs are always a sad sight, no matter what walk of life your from, it makes you feel alone. As if no one bothered to take you along with them when they left. His chest tightens. There's that word again. So many different meanings but they all have the same message built into them. No one's here, they left you, you're nothing, you're _alone._  
He shakes his head again. So many unpleasant thoughts, so little time. He needs to get back on track. The chair legs. If he broke them off he might be able to pry open the door, and if worst comes to worst, he could use them as weapons.  
It was a good idea, and for once Bucky feels proud of himself for making up the solution, but then the coldness of reality sets in and he remembers the locks he heard clicking into place. There's at least 8 of them. A table leg isn't going to do shit against them.  
The security here is extreme. They didn't even have this back at hydra. Trying to think of a way out is futile. This stuff is made for holding enemies, very _smart_ enemies.  
His eyes catch on the glare of the metal table's reflection on the viewing window.  
Maybe he doesn't have to be smart about this.  
***  
The warm liquid leaks through his fingers and onto the tile. His hands keep changing position on her stomach, trying to find the best way to keep the blood inside her. Nothing works. Her shirt lays on the ground next to him. It's against his moral to code to undress a woman without consent but it kept getting in the way.  
"How far away is the ambulance?" Steve asks as he re-positions his hands again. This is doing nothing helpful.  
"Operator said 5 minutes. That was 5 minutes ago though." Clint turns around, a bundle of medical supplies in his arms, "Here." He says dropping it next to Steve. A trashed first aid kit sits on the edge of one of the sinks.  
"What is it?" He asks, quickly glancing at the materials.  
"Uh," Clint raises up a tan roll of fabric, "Some gauze-"  
"Gauze isn't going to help this."  
He puts the roll back down, "I also have some scissors, and um, some bandages."  
Steve shakes his head; not just at the selection of medical supplies but at the entire situation.  
"W-we need to warn the others. If the lady could do this to Nat, who knows what else she might be capable of." He says it sheepishly, as if Steve might snap at him for making a sound. It's only then that Steve realizes that he might've been a bit meaner than needed. He reminds himself to apologize later, now is not the time for saying sorry.  
He nods, "Take the earpiece back and use it to tell them. You can go check on Sam while you're at it. I'll stay here."  
"Are you sure you'll be alright here?" Clint asks as he removes the device from his ear.  
"I'll be fine." The paranoia jumps back onto his shoulder. How true is that statement? He can already feel her heartbeat slowing under his hands. Her breathing isn't any better. In fact, it's almost non-existent.  
"Okay." Clint stands up, "If you need me just-."  
"Initiating security protocol 7." Says a mechanical voice over the the intercom. J.A.R.V.I.S.  
Steve glances up at him with furrowed eyebrows, "What does that mean?"  
"Well, protocol 6 means he's locking the entire building down. Protocol 7 means that _he's_ shutting down... I think. There are a lot of protocols-"  
"Why would he shut himself down?"  
Clint shrugs almost apologetically, "I forgot, but I think Tony said something about it being automatic if someone tries to hack into the building's security system through J.A.R.V.I.S's system." He runs a hand over his face, "It's really fucking confusing, but basically now J.A.R.V.I.S can't be accessed anywhere except for the iron man suit."  
Steve nods his head, "Thanks for explaining it."  
"No problem." Clint glances at Natasha one last time before turning to leave, "And sorry for being such an ass yesterday. This isn't an excuse, but I was really stressed."  
He doesn't give Steve any time to respond, or to say sorry himself, before he exits.  
Now it's just him, 4 toilets, and a dying woman.   
Sounds like a bad joke.

The wound continues to bleed. She must've lost at least a liter and a half by now. He re-positions hands again. Blood gushes out as he does and returns to an even stream when he stops moving.  
If he doesn't do something soon she'll die.  
He can't loose another friend.  
But how is he supposed to fix this?   
He never understood why Archimedes jumped out of the bathroom screaming eureka. Sure, he might've been happy he found the solution to his problem, but Steve didn't think that would be enough to make someone go out in public while completely nude.  
But now he understands completely, and if he wasn't keeping someone from dying he'd probably do the same thing. Or at least mentally. (There are appearances that need to be kept.)  
Only problem is, he's not sure the first aid kit has what he needs, or if he can even reach it from 6 feet away. His eureka moment is starting to feel more like a reminder of how screwed he really is.  
Nonetheless, Steve won't let it stop him. He's done the impossible before hasn't he?  
***  
It's like picking out clothes.   
Very deadly, very heavy, clothes.  
He runs his fingers along the gold and red metal plates.  
No, picking clothes would be easier. He has no idea what type of weapons the Hydra agents upstairs have. What suit of armor he wears could be the difference between dying and going on to live another day.  
His fingers stop when they hit a scratch in the paint. It's a shame, this was his favorite one. He can't even fix it right now.  
Guns. They always have guns. He sighs. That doesn't really narrow it down. All of the suits are bulletproof.

The earpiece on his desk stars to vibrate, knocking off a few pencils.  
He huffs in annoyance and snatches it up.  
"What is it?"  
"Nat's down." Says the voice on the other end.  
"What do you means she's down?"  
"I mean she's down, and I'm not sure she's getting up this time."  
Tony runs a hand over his face, "Where's Dr. Brennan?"  
"Missing. We found her clothes in the woman's bathroom."  
"She's naked?" Had it been someone else, he might've looked forwards to chasing them naked, but he's seen Dr. Brennan without clothes before. It's a disappointment every time.  
Clint doesn't laugh, "Your guess is as good as mine."  
"Who's with Natasha?"  
"Steve." A pause, "I'm going to need your help.  
"With?"  
"I need to get my stuff from my room and Steve's shield from his. According to what J.A.R.V.I.S said, Hydra agents are up there so I need you to watch my back."  
"Okay. Be there in a minute." He's about to put the earpiece back on the desk but a small digital voice yells at him to wait.  
"No- I'm going to meet you at your lab."  
He shakes his head confused, "Why? It would be-"  
"You can still access J.A.R.V.I.S from your suits, right? We need to have him check the security cameras so we know if they've moved."  
He runs a hand through his hair. Needs more gel. "Okay. I'll wait here, I guess..." He places the earpiece back onto the table, picking up a few pencils that had fallen while he does so. Only then he notices that his hands are trembling.  
This is specifically why he didn't want Bucky in the tower or anywhere near the team. The last thing they needed was another run in with Hydra.  
He should've fought harder against having Bucky here. He should've called the police the minute he came into the view of the security cameras.  
But he _didn't._ He has to remind himself of that. Anything that happens now is a direct consequence of his decision to not do anything and to trust Steve.  
He sighs and leans against his work bench. All of this has taken a large toll on him, if he doesn't go to a spa or something soon he's going to get grey hairs. He allows himself to breathe for a minute before he pushes himself back up.  
Now, what golden exoskeleton will he wear today?


End file.
